


Alexandria Country Club

by eldritchMortician



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Attempted Sexual Assault, Complicated Relationships, Daddy Kink, Death Threats, Dom Negan (Walking Dead), Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gaslighting, Gen, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Protective Negan (Walking Dead), Sexy Negan (Walking Dead), Spanking, Sweet Negan (Walking Dead), Vaginal Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-02-07 20:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21463744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldritchMortician/pseuds/eldritchMortician
Summary: Negan works as a security guard for Alexandria Country Club. Usually it's a pretty cushy job with lots of downtime. One evening, he works at a wedding and hits it off with one of the bridesmaids.Of course, nothing is ever easy. What starts out as a possible blossoming relationship takes a serious turn when someone, possibly from her past, or possibly from his, starts threatening Olivia.Negan is for damned sure not going to stand for that.
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead) & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd previously posted this on Tumblr, but I'm going to upload it here and hopefully finish it!
> 
> Stay tuned for more, I have several chapters written, and there *is* eventual smut!

Negan hated weddings.

Well, not weddings themselves so much as he hated the receptions. Usually, he could avoid the guests. After all, who spoke much to the roaming security guard at the Country Club? Most days his rounds were undisturbed as rich old people went out for a round of golf, visited the pro-shop, maybe had dinner. It wasn’t the type of crowd that got drunk and caused a problem. Most days if there were younger people, they were there with family. Trust fund kids trying to impress grandad, or trying to get contacts for later business. All of that was no trouble. The worst thing that happened on a day like that was someone locking their keys in their car.

Weddings were different. People from out of town, guests of the club members, people who knew they were never coming back again… that type came in with weddings. And they caused trouble. Once the booze started flowing, some people lost any sense of propriety. 

Even worse, he had to dress up in a goddamn monkey suit.

He sighed, standing behind the bar and watching the party swirl around him. The bartender had been run ragged, so Negan had little doubt more than a few of the partygoers were drunk as hell. He was keeping a particular eye on one knot of young men. He knew the type; used to getting things their way, used to being cock-of-the-walk. The type that didn’t like being told ‘no’ about anything. Alcohol only loosened up their inhibitions, and tended to lead to trouble. That was the type who decided to trash a rival’s car, or take a golf club to windows. Maybe steal a golf cart and tear up the lawns. It would make him very happy if they behaved that night, but he wasn’t sure they would.

He was so busy watching the room he didn’t even see her come up.

“Hey, excuse me? Could I get a glass of pinot?”

Negan turned, about to tell her he wasn’t the bartender, and paused.

She was one of the bridesmaids. It was hard to keep them straight with everyone moving around so much, but he’d seen a couple copies of that teal dress, gathered in little knots and moving around in herds. He didn’t think he’d really seen this one, though. He’d have remembered a lady filling that dress out so nicely.

She wasn’t tall, and she was softly curved, the plunging neckline of the dress looking like it was made to make her look hot. Her red hair was up, tendrils falling in waves around a cute face with big green eyes. She had a chocolate brown shawl around her shoulders, and delicate jewelry. He might have appreciated the view and dismissed her as another society girl so far out of his league they weren’t even playing the same sport, but his eyes caught on her nails, painted in alternating teal and chocolate. It was a small, but unusual touch that made him pay attention.

“Well, darlin’ I’m not the bartender, but I’ll do my best.” He grinned wolfishly at her.

It was a little gratifying when her cheeks tinged a little pink. She leaned her chin in her hand as she watched him rattle through the wine bottles. “Sorry. You were behind the bar, so certain conclusions were inescapable.” Her voice was light and teasing.

“Well, guess that’ll teach you to make assumptions.” He winked. Ordinarily he would not have been flirting with a guest, but, well… He held up a bottle. “That look about right?”

She leaned forward to read the label, entirely unselfconscious about the view of her cleavage it afforded him. She grinned. “Looks like it,” she said. “That a good one?”

Negan retrieved a glass, pouring a generous portion and setting it on the bar. “Beats me. I’m more of a whiskey man myself. I don’t know much about wine.”

“I’ll say, this is a white wine glass.” She gave him a teasing smile, her tongue caught between her teeth as she picked up the glass. He had a sudden and very graphic fantasy about what he’d like that tongue to be doing just then.

He chuckled. “Well, excuse the hell out of me, princess. Like I said, not the bartender.”

The woman took a sip of the wine and giggled. “Hell, half the time at home I use a juice glass. I’m not nearly this fancy.” She tossed her head, indicating the lounge around them. She offered her hand. “Olivia.”

He took it. She was small-boned, her skin soft. It was like holding a bird in his large hand; he was almost afraid he’d break her. “Negan.”

Olivia arched an eyebrow at him, sipping the wine. “So, why are you behind the bar if you’re not a bartender, Negan?”

“It’s the best place to keep an eye on things. And I didn’t want anyone crawling back here while the booze was unattended. You know, security type things.”

She chuckled. “Security at a country club, huh? That must be thrilling.”

“You’d be surprised. Sometimes not one but two people misplace their keys. And if I’m really lucky I’ll catch some kids cutting through the golf course.”

Olivia laughed. It was a nice sound. “So you go put the fear of god in them?”

“Something like that,” he chuckled. “So, why are you hanging out with me instead of your friends, Olivia?”

“Well, for one thing you’re better looking,” she smiled, sipping her wine. “For another I’m trying to keep a low profile so I don’t scandalize the ancient families. Should my shawl slip an inch and show a glimpse of tattoo apparently it could mean the death by mortification of some great aunt or another.”

Oh yes, he liked her. He eyed the shawl. “How many tattoos are you hiding under that thing?”

She leaned closer, conspiratorially. “Two. Three if you count each wing separately. The more interesting question is how many the dress is hiding.”

She was deliberately tormenting him. She had to be. He felt his body respond to her. Between her tease, and the soft scent of her perfume as she leaned closer… He wanted to drag her onto the bar and fuck her then and there. Wouldn’t that mortify the aunts something awful?

“I gotta admit you have my curiosity, darlin’.”

Her grin was wicked. Oh, she knew what she was doing, the little tease. “Excellent. It’s always nice to be intriguing.”

“You know, I’m supposed to maintain a certain decorum when I’m working. You’re making it--” he stopped himself before he said  _ hard _ . “...difficult.”

She ducked her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. She sounded so sincere.

“Don’t be.”

She was about to say something more when a couple of the teal-clad bridesmaids wobbled up, unsteady on high heels and full of alcohol. Babbling about the bouquet toss. Olivia gave him an apologetic look. 

“I’ll find you again before I go,” she promised as she was dragged off.

Negan doubted she would. He knew he was a good looking man, but he was also aware that a security guard rather a lot older than her probably wouldn’t hold the attention of a woman like Olivia for long. She’d tease and flirt, and give him nice thoughts to jerk off to later, but that was about it. 

As the night wore on, the older relatives drifted away and left the younger set. This was the most dangerous time in Negan’s experience. No one to behave in front of, an audience to show off for, and an entire evening of drinking behind them. 

He’d seen Olivia here and there, usually accompanied by one or more of her dress-clones. She’d caught his eye and grinned once or twice, and he’d winked back. It was nice, breaking up the monotony by flirting with a pretty girl.

The dance floor would be the most likely to take care of itself. With the bartender and waiters around, he’d be alerted to any potential problems. The danger was the roamers; the young men who prowled around looking for trouble. So, he took a patrol through the rest of the building.

He hadn’t seen Olivia in a little while, and he had to admit to a little disappointment. He doubted he’d see her again, unless the bride invited her out. It was too bad, but such was life. It was fun while it lasted.

Negan was near the cloakroom when he heard voices. He almost dismissed it as some young couple finding a private area, but the sound was sharp and angry. He quickened his pace.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” A woman’s voice. Strained with anger and perhaps fear. A voice he liked better laughing and teasing.

A man’s laugh, drunk and entitled. “Oh, come on, baby. Don’t be such a bitch. I know bridesmaids are always looking to get laid at weddings.”

One of the young men, one of the ones in a thousand-dollar suit and a tie that cost more than Negan’s tv, had Olivia cornered in the cloakroom. She’d drawn her shawl around her protectively. Her hair had come loose, spilling red waves around her shoulders. When Negan opened the door, she looked up at him like he was Captain fucking America.

“What the fuck, this is a private conversation,” the young man said. His tone was arrogant and petulant. Oh he did not like being interrupted by the help. Negan wanted to pound the little shit into the ground. With an effort, he ignored him.

“Ah, there you are. You left your credit card at the bar,” he said to her. He kept his voice pleasant and even, his smile wide. “I’ll walk you back.” He held out a hand to her.

When she reached to take it, the man stepped between them. He was shorter than Negan. Much younger. There was vodka on his breath and anger in his eyes. “Hey, fuck off, old man. She wants to stay here.”

Negan felt the smile melt off his face as he looked down at the young man. His dark eyes hardened, meeting the boy’s eyes. He wanted to hurt him. For a moment, he almost hoped the little shit threw a punch. Because then he’d have an excuse. His nostrils flared, and his voice, when it came, was low and dangerous. “Step aside for the lady.”

For a moment, he thought vodka had robbed the kid of all good sense. Then he wilted under Negan’s gaze.

The moment the young man stepped aside, Olivia’s hand was in his, holding tight like he was a lifeline. He pulled her out of the cloak room, perhaps a bit too roughly, still angry. She almost had to jog to keep up with his long stride as he led her away.

“You all right?” he asked. He didn’t mean to sound gruff, but did.

She nodded, looking up at him, all wide eyes and flushed cheeks. “Thank you. He wouldn’t take a hint.”

He slowed, stopping before they came back to the ballroom. He looked down at her. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Olivia shook her head. She seemed a little shell-shocked. “N-no.” She fidgeted with the coat she had draped over one arm. “I went to grab my coat, then I was going to come say goodbye. Chet followed me. He’s been a slime all night.”

Negan’s anger was slowly dissipating. He snorted. “Chet. Of course his name is fucking Chet.”

She gave a small, giddy laugh. “I know. He might as well be wearing a sweater tied around his neck and carrying a tennis racket. Make the complete 80’s rich asshole picture.”

He smiled, laying a hand on her shoulder. “You want me to walk you out to your car?”

“Yes, please,” Olivia said, giving him a soft little smile.

He helped her into her coat, and was pleasantly surprised when she took his arm as he walked her out. He felt eyes on them as they exited, and he wondered if he’d have more problems with Chet later on.

He hoped so.

Olivia directed him to a little green mini-cooper, which made him chuckle. She was cute, there was no denying that. And as far out of Negan’s league as she probably was, Chet wasn’t fit to breathe the same air.

She paused, looking up at him. “Thank you again. For everything.”

He gave her a grin. “Just doing my job, ma’am.”

She smiled, giving a soft laugh. “I think you went above and beyond. So thank you. I’ll see you around, Negan.”

He didn’t think so, but it was nice to think about. “See you, Olivia.”

Before he could react, she went on her toes and kissed his cheek, pressing something into his hand. As she pulled back, she looked into his eyes, and got in the car.

He watched her drive away, still feeling a bit bemused about the night’s events, and finally remembered to open his hand. He unfolded the paper he found there.

_ Negan--the answer is the dress is hiding three more tattoos. --Liv _

Under the message was her phone number.

He grinned, chuckling. Damn, that woman was certainly something. Carefully, he put the note in his wallet, and started to head back.

Negan wasn’t even surprised that Chet was outside. Nor was he surprised he’d brought two friends. They’d managed to gather enough courage to meet him in the parking lot, jackets off, sleeves rolled up.

“You shouldn’t have fucked with me, old man,” said Chet. Clearly he felt a bit more brave with backup.

Negan sighed, looking between the three of them. Full of booze and confidence. Spoiling for a fight. He didn’t think they were going to back down. 

“Kid, you need to walk away right now,” he told the boy. He had to give him a chance. Calmly, Negan took off his jacket, laying it on the hood of the car next to him.

The three laughed. “Think you’re tough, old man?” one of them jeered.

“Shit, man. Let’s kick his ass,” said the other. 

Negan took off his tie, leaving it with the jacket. He felt a vicious grin pulling at his lips as he turned to face them. “I gotta tell ya. You boys have done fucked up,” he told them.

He went to work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan and Olivia have a date, and talk a few things over.

The day after the wedding, Olivia was still thinking about Negan. That was either a good or bad sign. It was probably time she got back into the dating game, though. He wasn’t what she’d have pegged as her usual type, but there was something about him she’d liked pretty much immediately. 

She was not going to spend all day looking at her phone, however. He’d use her number or he wouldn’t, she decided. Besides, her apartment could stand to be cleaned.

It was a nice day out, and Sundays were rarely very busy in her neighborhood, so she opened the windows, enjoying the breeze as she took a break from cleaning. She sipped a cup of coffee, reading. 

Her phone chirped; she had a text.

She eyed the phone a moment, sitting face-down on the table. Probably just Stephanie complaining about the airport. As though she had anything to complain about, going to europe for her honeymoon. Trying not to think too much about it, she picked up the phone. The text was from a number she didn’t recognize.

** _So that makes five total tattoos, huh? Sounds hot._ **

She read and re-read the message, grinning despite herself. Well, she had his attention.

_ Well, hello there. Assuming this is Negan. If it’s Chet, please go fuck yourself with a cactus. _

She didn’t think it would be Chet, of course. Unless he’d pickpocketed Negan which seemed unlikely. She wouldn’t put it past him to try of course, but she had little doubt he’d be inept at it. He was the son of one of Stephanie’s parent’s friends, a family who’d been invited for political reasons. Had to love that whole rich-folks clique. Her phone chirped again. 

** _Chet won’t be fucking himself or anyone else with anything for a while._ **

She wondered if she ought to be worried about that.

_ What? Did you castrate him or something? It’s a nice gesture, don’t get me wrong, but won’t his family object? And more to the point have you arrested, or possibly murdered? I’m not sure *how* rich they are. _

** _No, he’ll be able to create little Chets, god help us all. But his right arm is fucked up. Few fingers too, I’m pretty sure. And he’s not getting any dates until his face heals._ **

Olivia bit her lip. So there had been a confrontation. She’d worried about that. Chet had been drunk and angry. She’d hoped he’d slink off when she was gone, but apparently not. Negan was a fairly large man, and moved like he knew what he was doing. In a fight, she imagined Chet would come out on the worse end. Apparently she was right.

_ Are you okay? And aren’t you worried you’ll get fired? Aren’t his parents members? _

** _Worried about me, sweetheart?_ **

She could imagine him, that wide, toothy grin. The little edge of cockiness as he teased her.

_ That’s not an answer. _

** _Neither is that. I’m fine. I don’t think he told his parents I did it, not that I give a fuck. The little shit got two of his friends and tried to jump me in the parking lot. Rich or not it was self defense. Don’t think he’s going to say shit though. Too embarrassed he and his buddies got their asses beaten by an old man._ **

Three of them? She’d ordinarily think that was bragging, but it certainly fit into Chet’s personality. He seemed the type to get a gang together to stack the odds in his favor. That Negan held his own against three younger men… and not only that, but won… Well, that was something to consider. 

_ Yes, he ought to be embarrassed. Generally speaking as well as specifically due to the fight. Three on one is pretty cowardly. And you’re hardly an old man. _

** _Does that mean if I asked you to dinner tonight you’d say yes?_ **

Olivia put her hand to her mouth, giggling. Well, he certainly didn’t waste time, did he? She chewed her lip, sipping her coffee for a long moment. It was just dinner.

_ Not abiding by the customary three days, huh? Where and what time? _

She wasn’t sure she ought to say yes, really. She’d only just met him. And by his own admission he’d beaten one man into a pulp in the past 24 hours. But considering the man he’d had the fight with, and how he’d treated her at the wedding… Well. It was just dinner. Not marriage. A public place, and she could leave if it didn’t go well…

** _You didn’t strike me as the type for customary. Besides, I’m free, and I liked talking to you. Also you’re smoking hot._ **

** _How about Gabriel’s on 7th street? About 6?_ **

She was glad he wasn’t there to see her blush. Sure, she got compliments, but Negan actually seemed sincere about it. Considering the other bridesmaids at the wedding, and indeed the other guests, she hadn’t felt like anything special. She was aware she was pretty, but lots of people were pretty. Hell, removed from his terrible attitude and personality, Chet was a good looking man. 

But she’d been drawn to Negan. Wearing his tuxedo like he wasn’t comfortable with it. Shuffling through wine bottles like he hadn’t much clue about what he was looking at. The spark of wickedness in those dark eyes, and that toothy grin surrounded by that salt and pepper beard. He was probably too old for her, but that had never stopped her before. In point of fact she preferred older men.

_Gabriel’s? That’s the little hole-in-the-wall_ _bar and grill, right? Been there forever? With the neon halo over the G?_

** _That’s the one. _ **

_ If they’ve survived this long the food must be amazing. Or they’re a front for the mob. Either way sounds like a good time. _

** _I knew I liked you. See you at 6. Much as I loved that damn dress on you, no need to doll up too fancy. It’s not exactly a high society place._ **

_ Well, thank god. I hate being judged on what fork I’m using while I’m just trying to eat. _

** _Only one fork to worry about there, and half the time it’s optional. See you at 6, doll. _ **

Olivia stared at her phone a moment, and clutched it to her chest, grinning. She had a date. Things were looking up. 

She arrived right at 6:00. She knew she was probably overthinking things. It was just dinner, after all. Even so, she’d taken over an hour deciding what to wear, settling on the jeans that fit her just right, the green shirt that wasn’t  _ too _ low cut but just enough, a casually-punky jacket festooned with buttons and patches, and boots that managed to be functional but stylish. She’d spent too long on making her makeup look casual, and on smoothing the frizz out of her wavy hair. 

The restaurant was surprisingly busy for a Sunday evening, and a glance at the people outside the front door smoking told her she was nearly overdressed. The neon sign lit the front up in red and yellow, casting everything into a warm glow. She didn’t see Negan outside, so took a breath, going in.

There was a steady murmur of conversation inside, much of it coming from the area with the bar. The restaurant was divided into two sides, the bar with tall tables and a stage, and the eating area proper. Olivia’s attention was caught by the bar area first.

The stage was lit up, music that was surprisingly slow and sweet drifting through the place as a blonde woman in a clingy red dress sang. Her voice was high and almost ethereal, the music accompanying her voice slow and deep. The tone was oddly retro, but also timeless in a way. It was not the atmosphere she’d expected from this place, and for a moment she was struck by the almost surreal sensation.

“Hello,” said a man’s voice behind her. 

She turned. Negan smiled down at her. He wore a simple gray tee and jeans. A tattoo peeked out from his right sleeve, and he had a small band-aid high on his forehead. His dark hair was slicked back, and he smelled like leather and musk and smoke.

Olivia smiled. “Hi there,” she said. Gods but he was handsome. She could look at those dark eyes all day.

“I got us a table,” he said, tilting his head toward a booth in the corner.

She followed him, sliding into her seat, laying her jacket aside. The menus were paper and well stained. She grinned at him. “I like the music.”

Negan smiled back at her. “Yeah, me too. Julee’s here pretty often. Everyone tells her she could make it big, but she likes the small venues.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged this as your thing,” she said.

“Are you assuming again, sweetheart?” he winked at her.

“I guess I am,” she laughed. She scanned the menu as a dark-haired waitress came up, smiling.

“Hi there! Can I get you guys something to drink?” the woman asked.

“I’ll have a beer. Whatever the darkest thing you got on tap is,” Negan said.

Olivia nodded approvingly. “Same.”

Negan smirked as the waitress headed off for their drinks. “Woman after my own heart, huh?”

Olivia chuckled. “Mmm. I just like bitter. Dark beer, black coffee, dark chocolate. Oddly enough I have a serious sweet tooth.” She flicked her eyes up at him. “I’m a woman of complex tastes.”

“A-fucking-parently,” he laughed. His grin was wolfish and almost predatory. The prudent part of her sounded an alarm. Her baser instincts had a rather warmer reaction.

“So, what’s good here?” she asked. Food was a safe subject. Of course the second she thought that, she imagined creative uses for whipped cream.

“Anything fried. They have salads but I’m not much for rabbit food.” Negan shrugged. 

Olivia smirked. “Ah, so this is a test huh?” She peered at him over the menu. He was so handsome. She guessed he was at least fifteen years her senior. It was unfair men got so much sexier with age. She wondered what this little encounter would end up being. A bit of pleasure, or something more long-term. She wasn’t sure yet what she was interested in. After all, her last relationship…

She didn’t want to think about that.

He raised an eyebrow. “You gonna be analyzing everything I say and do, doll? Because that’s a fuck of a lot of pressure.”

She chuckled. “Nah, just messing with you,” she said. Their beers arrived, dark amber and with a good head of foam spilling off the tops of the mugs. 

Negan glanced at her, and then to the waitress. “Let’s do an order of onion rings to start with. I’m going with the bacon cheeseburger.” He looked over at her.

Olivia smiled slightly. “Fish and chips,” she said, handing her menu back. As the waitress walked away, she smirked at him. “I’ve had fish and chips in London. It’s a high fucking bar.”

Negan gave her that wolfish grin again. “I don’t think you’ll be disappointed, sweetheart.”

“So far I haven’t been,” she admitted, glancing back toward the bar area and the singer.

He chuckled. “So, I guess that means I can get you out here again sometime. If only for the music,” he said. He fixed her with those dark, dark eyes. “So, can I ask you something serious?”

Olivia sucked in a breath, answering his gaze. “I… well, you can ask.” She tried to make the answer sound light. Instead her voice was fragile.

“Why’d you give me your number? You have to know I’m way older than you. I’m a security guard. That’s not exactly glamorous. And to be completely fucking frank, you’re out of my goddamn league.” His voice and expression were matter-of-fact. He didn’t seem accusatory, but curious.

She played with her napkin, avoiding his gaze. “I… well…” She took a breath. “You’re attractive,” she said finally. He didn’t seem like he would be put off by glib responses. She found herself being honest. “And genuine. You didn’t act like you were indifferent to me, but you didn’t push either. I don’t care for games. I’m too fucking old for games.”

He laughed softly. She looked up sharply, but it didn’t seem he was laughing at  _ her _ , but at the situation. “Well, goddamn, honey. I’m glad to hear you say that.” He gave her a crooked smile. “You still haven’t answered the second part of that question though.”

Olivia gave him a toothy grin. “I might just have a… thing… for older men.” She winked. “Don’t rest on your laurels though. I’m not opposed to a good tumble, but that’s not what a lasting relationship is made of.”

The song in the next room had gone lower and darker. Appropriate, she thought. Olivia took a drink, savoring the bitterness on her tongue. “So, I guess the real question is, what are we both looking for?”

Negan’s expression was unreadable. His head tilted, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips. “Well, sweetheart, I guess that’s a hell of a question, isn’t it?”

She inclined her head. “Not necessarily one we have to answer tonight. But…” She shrugged a little. She avoided his gaze. “I imagine we both have a past.”

He sat back, giving her a small smile. “Oh, ain’t that the truth,” he murmured.

His response, despite the heaviness of his voice, gave her a little hope. She looked up, giving him a smile. “Well then, I guess that’s a start.”

Negan grinned, wide and wolfish, full of teeth. “Yeah,” he agreed.

The onion rings arrived, forcing a lull in their conversation. Olivia was relieved, really. It had almost started feeling like a competition. She wasn’t disappointed by the food. He’d been right; the onion rings were good.

“So, am I passing the muster?” He winked at her.

“You’re good at picking restaurants,” she allowed. She sipped her beer.

His eyes were amazing. Dark, sparking with wicked intelligence. They held her fixed like a moth pinned to a display. “So, go on. You gave me your number. You have to know you could have any number of Chets at your beck and call if you wanted.”

She picked up an onion ring, deliberately, watching him. “Well, if I wanted that, I’d have it,” she said. “I prefer a man who knows what he’s doing.”

Negan’s smile widened. Something about it sent a thrill of excitement through her stomach and down to her core. “Oh, sweetheart. Believe me; I know what I’m doing. Especially with a woman.”

She sucked in a breath. She was  _ not _ going to sleep with him on the first date. She wasn’t going to go to a strange man’s home, and there would be awkward questions if she brought him to hers too early. Even so, she couldn’t deny more than a couple pornographic thoughts sparked through her imagination. She smiled back. “Well, you’re confident, I’ll give you that.”

He chuckled, dunking one of the onion rings in barbecue sauce. 

“So, I’ve got to know. Chet brought friends to start trouble with you?”

Negan snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, the little shitstain was afraid to come out alone. Got two of his drinking buddies out there with him in the parking lot. Followed me when I walked you out.”

She bit her lip. Chet had been angry Negan had intervened in the coat closet. She’d thought he would be, but hadn’t expected him to get violent. “I’m sorry,” she began.

“No,” Negan cut her off, his expression serious. “Don’t you apologize. You didn’t do a damn thing wrong. That creepy little bastard could have hurt you, and I wanted to kick his ass in the cloakroom. Ain’t your fault he decided to let me.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she agreed. “I’m just worried someone will kick up a fuss and get you fired. Did you hurt them very badly?” She glanced at his hands. Scabs on his knuckles. That and the bandaid near his hairline were the only evidence he’d even been in a fight.

He chuckled. “Mostly just Chet. More because I wanted to than anything. The other two tapped out after the first couple punches.” He took a pull at his beer. “Your concern is touching, but really, I wouldn’t worry. The little weasel’s pride probably won’t let him admit he and his friends got their asses kicked by a guy 20 years older than they are. Besides, I’m in good with the club owner. I say it had to happen, Rick’s going to believe me.”

She smiled. “Well, I guess it’s good to have friends in high places.” 

“Damn right it is,” he replied.

The waitress delivered their food, truly enormous portions and looking delicious. She shook malt vinegar over her fish and the fries, much to his amusement. As he had been with the onion rings, he was right. 

“Everything acceptable, princess?”

She jabbed her fork in his direction as she chewed a bite of the fish. Tender and flaky inside, with a delightfully crunchy exterior. “Can’t talk. Eating,” she told him, closing her eyes and sighing contentedly. “Mmmm.”

He laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He was easy to talk to. Almost too much so. Before they were finished, they were laughing and chatting like old friends. They didn’t stray back to the subject of what they were looking for with each other. There would be time for that later. Instead, they talked about music and movies. They argued cheerfully over which old Mel Brooks movie was the best (he liked  _ Blazing Saddles _ , she insisted on  _ Young Frankenstein _ ). She got him to tell her amusing stories about being security at a country club. She shared incidents from when she’d been a nurse. She gave him a vague answer when he asked why she was working in a bookstore now. He avoided talking about what he’d done before the country club.

They were both clever people. They each knew the other was holding back a little. 

Everyone had secrets.

It was late when he finally walked her out to her car. It hadn’t felt as long as it had been. That was probably a good sign.

“You okay to drive, sweetheart? That was a big-ass beer for someone so little.” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. We were in there a while. I’m well under the legal limit.” She hesitated, looking up at him. “I had a good time tonight.”

Negan grinned. “So did I. That mean we’re going to do this again?”

She wondered if she was really ready for this. Even so, she found herself smiling a little. “Yeah. I’d like to.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he told her. 

“I hope so,” she replied.

Maybe it was the beer, or maybe it was the night air. Maybe it was just him. She put a hand to his cheek, drawing him down into a kiss. It was light and gentle. She kept back the heat that flared in her at the touch, much as she wanted to tangle her fingers in his hair and give in to her passion. His big hands rested lightly on her hips, as though he was afraid if he tightened his grip he would break her.

Finally, she pulled back, and he smiled down at her. A little wickedness sparked in his eyes. “I’ll definitely be calling you.”

“You better,” she grinned. “Goodnight, Negan.”

“Goodnight, Liv.”

Her heart pounded all the way home. She wanted him. She couldn’t deny that. Negan was handsome, he was interesting, and he’d rescued her from Chet. All points heavily in his favor. He was clearly interested in her. They’d have to work out exactly how they were interested in each other. If this would be a casual fling or something more. Part of her hoped it was more. Even as part of her was desperately afraid it was.

She sighed as she got into her apartment, locking the door behind her. She wasn’t sure she was ready to date again. She wanted to, certainly. She’d given him her number for a reason. But faced with the possibility, part of her was frightened and more than a little guilty.

She pushed the thought away. It was just dinner. She’d had a good time, and she deserved to have a good time once in awhile. She’d think about more serious things if they became relevant.

Tiredly, she headed to her room to get ready for bed, trying very hard not to look at the wedding pictures on her mantle.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan meets Olivia's best friend, they have a date, and she has an unpleasant surprise when she gets home.

Mondays were always slow, particularly when it was raining. A retiree or three might come in the club for lunch, but it was unlikely anyone would be out on the green. It wasn’t a bad job, but days like that one were always long.

Negan found himself making security rounds just to pass the time, though his thoughts were preoccupied. He’d enjoyed the previous night. That gave him a lot to think about. He found himself glancing at his phone at frequent intervals, wondering if Olivia had messaged. Wondering if he should.

“Hey, Negan,” a voice behind him broke his reverie. 

He glanced back. One of the women who ran the pro shop, Carol, pointed up the hall. “Rick was looking for you.”

He nodded. He’d expected as much, after all. He still doubted Chet had turned him in, but after parties Rick tended to at least glance over the security tapes. The incident in the parking lot would certainly have got his attention.

“Thanks,” he said to her, flashing a wide grin on his way past. 

Rick was behind his wide oak desk sorting paperwork when Negan entered, pausing only briefly to rap his knuckles on the doorframe. He flopped into one of the overstuffed leather chairs, leaning back.

“You rang?”

Rick glanced up, his blue eyes mildly annoyed. “Were you going to tell me you beat the holy hell out of three guys in the parking lot, or were you saving the lawsuit for a surprise?”

Negan chuckled. “I didn’t hurt ‘em that bad. And if you saw the footage you know they started it.”

“Yes, they did. You sure as hell finished it, though.” Rick sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Chet Applegate, Negan. His family have been members of this country club since the goddamn Mayflower dropped his ancestors here.”

Applegate, huh? He’d recognized the little punk, but hadn’t put a last name to him. No wonder Rick was pissed. Negan shrugged. “He should have known better than to try to take on security at his family’s legacy club. Has there been a complaint?”

“Well, no,” Rick allowed. 

“I don’t think there will be. He’s probably embarrassed he got his ass handed to him. And he probably doesn’t want his bullshit in the cloak room brought up. I told you we need a security camera in there.”

Rick frowned at that. “Was he stealing?”

“Worse,” Negan said. He tried to keep his voice neutral. He’d been pissed before, but now that he’d spent some time with Olivia… He wanted to kick the little shitstain’s ass all over again. “Had one of the bridesmaids cornered in there. Wouldn’t let her out, trying to paw her at least.”

“She all right?”

“I caught him before shit went very far. He was pissed about it. That’s why he and his buddies made the mistake of jumping me in the parking lot after I walked her to her car.”

Rick ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed. “I guess I can’t really blame you,” he grumbled.

“Fuck, no. It’s those little fucks fault I had to go and fuck them up.” Negan grinned, folding his arms behind his head. Rick gave him an annoyed glance and his grin widened. “What? I’m supposed to watch my fucking language out there. I got to let loose sometime.”

“Fine, just try to stay out of trouble. Chet lives out of state going to some ivy league school. If there’s a fuss I’ll tell his parents I fired you. It’s not like they know who the hell you are anyway.”

Negan chuckled and gave him a salute. “Good deal. Am I dismissed?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know if there’s anything else. And I’ll look into putting a camera in the cloak room.”

Negan stood. “I’ve only been saying we needed one for a year,” he griped. “How’re the kids?”

Rick grinned at that. If there was any subject he loved it was that one. “Good. Real good. Carl’s been on the honor roll. I may have promised we could get a dog if he keeps it up. Judith’s growing like hell, even though I can’t get her to eat anything but macaroni lately.”

“Kids survive somehow,” he assured him. “Tell Carl to keep practicing batting, don’t let him get out of practice because of all that book shit.”

Rick rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you, I’ll get right on that.”

Negan headed back out, chuckling to himself. He wasn’t at all surprised Mr. Chet hadn’t turned him in. Hopefully the little prick would go back to his ivy-league school and that would be that.

He paused, pulling out his phone. It was nearly lunchtime. He knew it was customary to wait a day or two after a date before contacting the other person. There were rules for how the game was played. 

He was also more aware than most people of what wasting time could cost. And frankly, he hated head games. 

** _So, do you do the 9 to 5 thing? Or does your bookstore have weird hours?_ **

He decided to do a quick patrol of the building while he listened for the chime of his phone. The rain outside made things dim, the quiet pattern of sound felt sleepy and relaxing. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

_ Off today, actually. Over at my friend Adair’s place. _

** _Adair? Should I be jealous?_ **

He smiled a bit. She’d mentioned the name in passing last night, though they hadn’t spoken much about him. He couldn’t resist teasing a little, though.

_ No :) He’s practically my younger brother. And I’m not his type. _

** _Oh? Are you sure? I thought smoking hot redhead was everyone’s type._ **

_ Well, yes, he does appreciate a smoking hot redhead if it’s Michael Fassbender. Also he’s fussing at me to be nice and take the compliment, so thank you. You’re not hard on the eyes yourself. _

** _Good to hear, I don’t even moisturize._ **

_ So I’m guessing you’re not exactly busy securing the country club on a rainy Monday. _

** _No, not really. Spoke to the boss man about a security camera in the cloak room. He’s finally going for it._ **

_ Good call. _

** _So, when are you free again?_ **

He figured there was little point in being coy. He wanted to see her again, and if she wanted to see him, well, there was no point in delaying. It was perhaps dangerous, getting so involved so quickly, but he couldn’t help himself. 

_ I’m indisposed tonight, but free much of the week. If you don’t mind a late dinner depending on the day. I close the shop Wednesday and Thursday, that’s at 8. _

** _Tomorrow?_ **

It was probably too fast. He didn’t want to come off as creepy or possessive. Or just plain desperate. But the truth was, he couldn’t get enough of her. There was a pause, and he texted again.

** _Or Friday maybe, if that’s too soon. _ **

_ No, tomorrow’s great. Sorry that took a minute, Adair was demanding to meet you. Want to pick me up at his place? _

** _Can do, doll. Just let me know where and when._ **

The next evening took its sweet time in coming, in his opinion. Eventually, though, he was rolling up to a rather sizeable house in what he always thought of as the ‘ritzy’ part of town. The grounds were well maintained, and the house was much fancier than he’d been expecting. He double-checked the address to reassure himself he was correct as he drove up, but there was Liv’s little mini-cooper outside the monstrous structure. Surprised and feeling a little underdressed in jeans and a leather jacket, he rang the doorbell.

He half expected a butler. Instead, the door was opened by someone he first took for a kid. He was small, an inch shorter than Olivia at least, and slender, with a youthful face and dark hair that brushed his shoulders. The impression of youth was only intensified by the baggy jeans and oversized hoodie he was wearing. Big blue eyes flicked up and down, appraising him.

“Yep, you’re Negan all right,” the young man declared. He stood aside to let him in.

Negan raised an eyebrow, stepping in. “Yeah, that’s me. You must be Adair.”

The young man nodded. “Uh-huh. Come on in, Liv’s upstairs doing some hair thing.” He closed the door and beckoned. “Want a drink while you wait?” He padded down the hall and Negan saw no alternative but to follow him. 

The house was as well kept on the inside as it was outside. The kitchen was black and chrome, a magnetic strip of knives over a generous countertop, hanging pot racks, and some forms of machinery he wasn’t clear on the purpose of. “Nice place.”

Adair smiled a little. “Thanks, technically it’s my parents’ but they’re out of the country indefinitely. Tea, water, lemonade, coffee? You’re going to be driving I assume so I won’t pull out the booze.”

The boy was interesting. The house certainly spoke of the sort of wealth that was common at the club, but he was pretty sure he’d never seen him before. He had an Asian cast to his features that was fairly distinctive. “Lemonade sounds great, thanks.” He sat at the kitchen island where the boy indicated, watching him get a glass. “So, I take it Liv described me or something?”

Adair smirked, glancing back at him. “Nope. But a rugged silver fox with a voice like melted chocolate, wearing a leather jacket. and who looks like he could kill a man with his bare hands? If there was checklist for ‘things that are Olivia’s catnip’ you’d tick off most the boxes.” He set the glass of lemonade down and leaned his elbows on the counter.

Negan chuckled. The kid certainly wasn’t shy about saying what he thought. “Well, good to know I guess.”

The young man nodded and smiled. “Yeah. I’m glad to see her dating again. And she seems to like you. If you treat her badly they’ll never find your body.” The smile never left his face.

The lemonade paused halfway to Negan’s lips. “I’m sorry. It sounded like you just threatened me?” He was more bemused than angry. Threats usually came in the form of shouting and spur-of-the-moment passion. The casual tone threw him.

“Not that I’m expecting you will, mind you. But while she’s upstairs I just wanted to make things clear. I care about Liv very much. If things don’t work out, that’s one thing. But if you don’t treat her right I’m going to be upset.” The young man propped his chin on his hand, his dark blue eyes steady on Negan’s. “And I _ will _ address it.”

Negan paused a long moment. The kid looked deadly serious. He couldn’t help himself; he grinned widely. “Damn, you mean every word of that, don’t you? I’m three times your size and you do not give one single fuck. I got to be honest, I believe you.” He saluted Adair with the glass and took a long swallow of lemonade. “I’m gonna do my best to treat the lady like she deserves. Will that do?”

Adair nodded, his smile a little wider. “That’ll do.” The young man looked up as Negan heard footsteps behind him. “Liv, you didn’t tell me he had the sexy Viking look going on!”

He turned in time to see the pink tinge spread across Olivia’s cheeks. She looked pretty of course, in a snug green shirt and jeans that hugged her curves. Her hair was pulled up in a messy twist, and a delicate choker circled her throat. She rolled her eyes at Adair. “I apologize,” she said, and smiled at Negan. “I see you’ve had the Adair experience.”

He grinned. “Yeah. I approve. The kid’s a badass.”

Adair gave a soft huff, and Olivia chuckled. “He’s a legal adult, not a kid,” she chided.

Negan waved a hand. “Sweetheart, at my age anything under 25 is a kid. 30 if I’m feeling especially grumpy.”

Olivia laughed “I hope he wasn’t too prickly. I haven’t dated in a while and he’s a bit protective.”

“‘He’ is still in the room, Liv,” Adair said.

“Nah, I don’t blame you. Lots of assholes out there,” he said to the young man. He turned back to Olivia. “Hell, you know that, what with Chet trying to paw you the other day.”

He realized too late that she was trying to signal him to silence. He glanced at Adair, who was glaring daggers at her.

“Who’s Chet?” he demanded.

She sighed, looking at the ceiling as though asking for divine intervention. “Just a jackass at the wedding. Negan took care of it.”

The young man turned his diamond-hard gaze on Negan. “He tried to paw her?”

“Yeah, I intervened. He jumped me in the parking lot and I’m pretty sure I broke his arm.” 

The young man nodded, a pleased smile spreading over his face. “Oh, good. I like you. Stop calling me ‘kid’ though.”

Negan laughed. He couldn’t help himself. “Deal.”

Adair gave Olivia a sharp look. “This isn’t over, by the way. Some reprobate tries to force himself on you and you don’t think it worth mentioning?”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” she began. 

“Well, good fucking job,” he sniffed. He gave Negan an arch look. “Well, this is what you’re buying into, sexy Viking. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. She’s impossible.”

Negan gave Olivia a wolfish grin, his eyes flicking over her. He didn’t bother to hide his appreciative glance. “I think I might be able to handle her,” he purred.

He was thoroughly gratified when her cheeks bloomed pink. 

Adair grinned and waved from the doorway as they drove off, and Olivia laughed softly. She rolled her eyes and looked at Negan.

“Jeez, he’s gonna kill me,” she sighed.

Negan chuckled. “He’s just looking out for you, sweetheart. Like I said, I can’t blame him. Lots of dangerous folks out there.”

“There are dangerous folks in here,” she smirked.

He grinned at her, winking. “Yeah, but we’re on the same side. Speaking of, you said you had an idea for tonight. Care to share?” She’d been a good sport about the bar last time, so it was only fair he let her pick for the second date. She hadn’t told him to dress up, so he figured it probably wasn’t too fancy, but she seemed the type to go for a more… elegant scene.

“Yup, dinner with entertainment,” she smiled brightly.

She refused to tell him more, only giving him directions as he drove. Eventually he gave up trying to pry it out of her, and decided he’d just trust her. Finally, they pulled into the parking lot of a Japanese style building, complete with a little bamboo garden and pond outside.

“I probably should have asked if you like Japanese food before we got here, but honestly, this is hibachi. It’s only barely Japanese.” She smiled as she got out of the car.

“Well, I can’t say. I’ve never had it,” he admitted, looking over the exterior.

She linked an arm through his. He was starting to like that. She was a little thing, much shorter than he was, and having her holding his arm made him feel like he was protecting and supporting her. “You haven’t? Oh, you’re in for a treat. There’s going to be fire and flying shrimp, and sake of course.”

He had to admit, she hadn’t been kidding about it being dinner and entertainment. They shared a jug of hot sake while they watched their dinner prepared on the table in front of them. He hadn’t seen quite so many fireballs during a meal since he was a teenager going camping with a bunch of other teenage boys, one of whom was a pyromaniac. They laughed at each other’s attempts to catch the shrimp thrown at them in their mouths. And the food was pretty good, too. 

Olivia was delicate and elegant in some ways as well. She handled her chopsticks neatly and with well-practiced ease, and spent half the meal trying to teach him how to use his. He managed to get one shrimp into his mouth with them and declared victory before switching back to a fork. 

At the end, her cheeks flushed from the sake, she insisted he try green tea ice cream. It tasted like sweetened grass clippings to him, but he enjoyed watching her eat it, her eyes closing almost sensually as she savored the flavor. 

He hated that they both had to work the next day. It was probably too soon to get physical, but watching her enjoy her dessert made him want to see what sort of expressions she made enjoying other things. Every time she leaned on him, every time she adjusted his fingers on his chopsticks, or insisted on pouring his sake for him, he just wanted to put his hands on her.

After dinner, rather than going to the car, she took his hand and led him around the restaurant. To his mild surprise, there was a park. A walking trail of blacktop surrounded a small lake and an expanse of grass dotted with trees. It was getting dark, and lights flickered on here and there, illuminating the trail. She laced her fingers with his as they walked.

For a time, neither of them said anything. Dinner was resting comfortably in his stomach, and the sake left him warm and content. 

Eventually, she looked up at him. “We going to do this again?”

“You mean the Japanese or the whole dating thing, darlin’?” 

Olivia smiled a little. “Both, I guess.” She bit her lip. “I like you. I’d like to keep seeing you.”

He grinned. “That works out, then. I like you, too.”

“Okay, then,” she said, ducking her head with a wide smile. 

He paused, putting his fingers to her chin, tipping her face up. “And I gotta say, you make getting shrimp bounced off your forehead look fucking hot.” He winked.

She giggled, and began to say something. Before she could, he leaned down and took her lips with his own.

They moved to one of the benches eventually. He was careful, not putting his hands anywhere too suggestive, much as he wanted to. He wanted to devour her, mark her neck, taste her. He held himself back, though, letting her set the pace. He wasn’t going to take anything she wasn’t willing to give. And beyond that, there was still a small part of him, still raw and wounded, that held him back. 

Her response to his kisses was tender and slow at first, but he sensed the underlying heat. She wanted him, perhaps as much as he wanted her. Even so, they both held back. Never quite crossing the line into a true invitation. They were in a park, true, but the spot they were in was secluded, and no one else was around. They could get away with a great deal, tucked away like that.

Eventually, they pulled apart. She was panting, her lips swollen, her hair mussed. She’d wrapped her arms around him, under his jacket. Her breasts pressed against his chest. She fit so nicely into his arms.

She swallowed, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “I don’t want to stop, but…”

“We both got work tomorrow,” he finished.

She bit her lip. “And… this is fast.”

He nodded. “This is fast.”

Olivia took a breath. “We don’t… we don’t know each other that well yet.”

He stroked his hands up and down her back. “We don’t.”

“I’ve got… there’s things in my past,” she said softly.

He smiled a little, leaning down and kissing her again. “I’ve got a longer past than you, baby,” he said softly. 

She nodded, and smiled a little. “It’s hard to care right now.”

“You ain’t fuckin’ kidding,” he chuckled. He sighed, and made himself stand up. Her body pressed close was decidedly not doing anything to help his current predicament. He took her hands, helping her up as well. “So in the interests of our mutual work situations and peace of mind, I guess we should head on back now.”

He didn’t mind quite as much as he thought he would. Yes, he wanted her. He wanted her so badly he could taste it. But he wasn’t going to be an asshole. He could wait for her to say yes properly. Then he would fuck her brains out.

After he dropped her off at Adair’s house, he drove home. It was later than he’d normally have been out on a work night, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was worth being a little more tired than usual tomorrow. It wasn’t like there would be any sort of crisis. There were no events planned. Hell, Rick probably wouldn’t even notice if he was late.

He locked his apartment door behind him and eventually settled into bed. He was just drifting off when his phone rang. He picked it up, peering at the screen and frowning. 

It was Olivia.

He answered it. “Hey, doll, I miss you too, but isn’t it a little late?”

“Negan…” she said.

He sat up. Something in her voice set off alarm bells in his head. “Livvy? What’s wrong?”

“I… I just got home. Someone put a letter under my door.” She paused, and he heard her take a shaky breath. “It’s a death threat.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia and Negan talk to the police, leading to frustration. Negan makes an unfortunate discovery.

“Okay, sweetheart, I need you to listen to me. Put the letter and envelope down on the table and don’t touch them.”

“Okay.”

“Now, lock the front door, and wedge a chair under it. Close your curtains, and stay away from the door and the windows.”

“O-okay…”

“I’m on my way. When you hang up with me, call 911. Tell them about the threat, and say you think someone’s outside the apartment.”

“But…”

“Say it. That’ll get them coming in lights and sirens. You’ll hear them and see the lights. Don’t open the door to anyone unless it’s me or the police. And only the police after you know for damn sure it’s them.”

“Negan, what if…”

“No, honey. Don’t worry about anything else but what I’ve told you to do. Get through the next little bit and I’ll be right there. Before you hang up, tell me what you’re going to do.”

“He knows where I live. How could he know where I live?”

“Babydoll…”

“He has to have followed me.”

“Livvy, honey…”

“Oh, god I could have walked right past him.--”

“Olivia!”

“...”

“Tell me what you’re going to do.”

“H-hang up. Call 911. Tell them about the letter and that I think someone’s here. W-wait for you to get here, or when I’m sure it’s really the police. Don’t open the door until then.”

“Good. Good damn girl. I’ll be there soon.”

Negan was right. The dispatcher kept Olivia on the line as she huddled on the floor in her living room, waiting for the lights and sirens. It felt like an eternity, though the clock on the wall seemed to barely move. The woman on the other end of the line kept her talking, reassuring her that help was on the way. All Olivia could think of was the words, neatly printed across the sheet of paper.

_ “To Olivia Sullivan, Dead Bitch Walking--I’m going to cut you open and watch you choke on your own blood. I want to see your eyes as you beg me to end it, and realize I don’t have that much mercy. Put your affairs in order. I’ll see you soon. --Your Secret Admirer”  _

It was far too graphic to be a joke, even one in poor taste. It had been slipped under her door in a plain white envelope. The paper was nondescript, the print ordinary. It could have come from any printer, at least from her brief examination. 

Eventually, she heard the sirens. After an agonizing wait, she saw the red and blue lights splashing on her curtains. She felt a little better then, knowing she was safe. At least for the moment.

Even though she saw the lights, she still insisted the police show her their badges before she moved the chair and unlocked the door. Someone took the letter and envelope, sealing each into individual bags. She sat at the kitchen table as officers milled around her apartment, prowled the hall outside, and walked up and down the street. She responded to questions as best she could.

She was wholly relieved when she heard Negan’s voice in the hallway outside.

“Sir, do you live in the building? You should go back to your apartment,” said a well-meaning officer.

“No, I don’t. I--look, my...my girlfriend called me. She got a threatening letter. I came as fast as I could.”

She heard the hesitation in his voice as he described her as his girlfriend. And why not? They’d known each other less than a week. They’d been on two dates. It was still questionable what they were to one another. But it was the quickest way past the wall of cops.

She got up, gently pushing past an officer as Negan managed to get inside. In two long strides he had her against his chest, his arms hard and strong around her.

“Are you okay, babydoll?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m okay. Just a little shaken up.”

The detective she’d been talking to approached. He gave Negan a narrow-eyed look, as though weighing the possibility he could be a danger. She could almost feel the suspicion center squarely on the man she was dating. She couldn’t much blame the detective; after all, it was a common occurrence for the boyfriend or husband to be at fault when a woman was threatened. 

“This gentleman is your boyfriend, ma’am?” The detective kept his voice bland and neutral. 

Well, Negan had started it. It was after all easier to explain than whatever it was they were at the moment. Then again, she had called him first. “Y-yes. Negan.”

“So, routine question. Where were you tonight, sir?”

She could feel him bristle at the question. He knew what was being implied, and it pissed him off. She squeezed his arm gently. Negan’s dark eyes darted to her, and he sighed. “We went to dinner earlier, and to the park. I dropped Liv off at her friend’s place and went home.”

Olivia nodded. “I left Adair’s pretty much ten minutes after he dropped me off and came right home.”

The detective nodded. She wasn’t certain he was fully satisfied with the answer, but it would do for the moment. “All right. So you came home, and found the envelope pushed under your door. Opened it, then laid it on the table. You say you thought someone was around the apartment?”

She felt a little guilty about the lie, but it had gotten them there in a hurry. “Yeah, I admit it might have been my imagination but I swore I saw someone hanging around the building. And considering the note, I was scared.”

“I don’t blame you. I took a look, it’s pretty graphic.” He pulled out a small notepad and jotted down a few words. “All right, can you think of anyone who might want to harm you? Any enemies, run-ins, grudges?”

“Well,” she began, and glanced up at Negan. She could see the muscles working in his jaw, the cold spark in his eyes. He was thinking the same thing as she was, and it made him angry. She took a breath. “There was an incident this weekend. I went to a wedding and… one of the guests tried to force himself on me in the cloak room.”

The detective raised his eyebrows. “Did you report him?”

She shook her head. “No. Negan caught him before anything happened. I understand that after I left he was still pretty angry about the whole thing. I didn’t think… I mean that letter’s more angry than I’d have expected, but… well, he’s the only person I know of anywhere near here that might have it in for me.”

“Can you give me a name? If nothing else we can question him.”

She glanced up at Negan. Sending the police after Chet might make the fight in the parking lot come to light. True, it was fairly clearly self defense if there’d been three against him, but she didn’t want him to have trouble because of her.

Negan looked down at her, and turned to the detective. “Chet Applegate,” he said calmly.

The scribbling pen paused. The detective eyed them both, and his expression told her they’d just made a mistake. “Chet Applegate? As in,  _ The _ Applegates?” he asked. He was smirking. 

She felt her stomach sinking. Of course. What had she expected? She’d just accused the son of the most wealthy and influential family in town of slipping a threatening letter under her door. She’d accused him of attempting to assault her. The detective probably thought this was some ploy on her part. 

Negan’s gaze darkened. “Yeah. Chet Applegate of the fucking Applegate fucking dynasty,” he grated. “He’s a weasley little shitstain who got pissed when the answer was no, and probably thinks he’s fucking clever terrorizing a woman in her apartment alone.”

The detective glanced up at Negan. He was quite clearly not taking this seriously anymore. “Sure. We’ll look into it,” he said. He turned to Olivia. “Say, do you have a printer, miss Sullivan?”

“Yes,” she said before she thought about the implications of what he was asking. She felt like she’d been slapped in the face. “What are you saying? Are you saying you think  _ I _ wrote a death threat to myself? Why would I do that? Why would you think--”

He held up a hand. “Not implying anything, ma’am. Just covering all our bases. You wouldn’t mind if we borrowed the printer, would you? Just to rule it out.”

“Are you fucking accusing her--” Negan began. His eyes roiled. She laid a hand on his arm.

“You know what? Take it,” she said flatly. “I’ve answered your questions. Do you have any more? I’m very tired and it’s been a rough night.”

“I think that should cover it,” the detective replied.

It took another twenty minutes for the police to clear out of the apartment, carrying out the letter and envelope, as well as her printer. She could tell Negan was angry. His face was hard, his jaw tight. His dark eyes followed the detective with the cold gaze of an alpha predator. He didn’t say a word or make a move, though, which simultaneously relieved and worried her.

Finally, the officers and detective left, and they were alone. Olivia sat heavily in a chair. 

“Fuck,” she said.

Negan paced back and forth across her living room like a caged tiger. His hands balled into fists and released. “Where the  _ fuck _ does that fucking asshole get off fucking talking to you like that?” he snarled. “He didn’t fucking believe a word we said about that Applegate motherfucker!”

Olivia sighed tiredly. “I should have known. The police are probably in bed with the family. You don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

Negan’s jaw set angrily. “Those worthless fucks aren’t going to fucking help.” Something in his voice was dangerous.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He blinked at her, the anger suddenly gone, replaced with confusion. “For what?”

Olivia bit her lip. “I… when I found the letter… I should have called the police first but all I could think of was… was that you’d know what to do.” She was ashamed to admit it. After all, they’d only just met. They liked each other, certainly. But she’d chosen to involve him in something serious. Something potentially dangerous.

He caught her chin with one hand, forcing her gaze up. A small smile played on his lips. “That’s ‘cause you’re a smart girl,” he said softly. 

“But, it’s not your problem. It could be dangerous. We’ve only been seeing each other a few days,” she protested.

“Shhh, babydoll,” he soothed. He leaned down, catching her lips with his own. He kissed her firmly, and perhaps possessively. “You did the right thing. And yes, I know what to do.”

She kissed him back. She didn’t mind that he wasn’t being gentle. After the scare she had, his possessiveness was actually soothing. As though he meant to keep her a part of himself, safe and sheltered. She was by no means powerless, or defenseless. At the same time, the letter left her feeling vulnerable and afraid. Someone knew where she lived. Someone meant to make her suffer. Having his reassurance, having him claim ownership of her… it gave her something solid to cling to.

It was as though he sensed her emotions. He pulled back, hand tangled in her hair, and fixed her with his dark eyes. “I’m going to keep you safe, baby. No one fucks with what’s mine.”

She ought to have been upset about his choice of words, she knew. But instead, she felt a swell of satisfaction and security. She was capable of caring for herself. Knowing someone else cared so much about her was almost intoxicating. She wrapped her arms around him, closing her eyes and resting her head against his chest. “Thank you,” she said softly. 

His hand stroked her hair slowly. “Get a bag together. A couple day’s worth of stuff. I’ll take you to Adair’s place, okay? He has a security system, right?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Best that money can buy.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Good deal. You’ll stay with him. We’ll figure this out, baby. Whoever wrote that shit threatening you is going to regret it. I don’t give one single fuck if the police don’t want to do shit.” There was a hard edge to his voice. “Now, go pack a bag. I’ll take you to Adair’s place.”

She felt a little separated from herself, as though she were watching a movie. She didn’t think of much of anything except doing as Negan instructed. Academically she knew she was experiencing shock, and that what she felt was normal. Emotionally it felt as though she were removed from her body and from the world in general.

It was getting quite late, and she knew she wouldn’t be in any shape to work tomorrow, but she’d worry about that the next day. Instead of considering that, she headed into her bedroom, finding a backpack and throwing clean clothes, and toiletries into it.

She was nearly on autopilot. Negan told her to pack a bag for a couple days; she packed the bag. She would go to Adair’s, and she would be safe from whoever had written the letter threatening to kill her. Saying they would enjoy watching her breathe her last.

Thinking too much about the contents of the threat made it almost intolerable to be in her bedroom alone. She barely thought about what she pushed into the bag. She’d never packed so quickly, so haphazardly, in her life. All she wanted to do was go somewhere safe.

He hadn’t suggested his own home. Part of her was a little surprised. He was a security guard, surely he had security measures, but in the end it made sense. As she’d said herself, they’d barely been dating a week. Adair’s home was known, familiar, safe and secure.

Maybe Negan would even stay there.

She pushed the thought aside. There were much more pressing matters. Serious or not, there had been a threat made. One that promised to end her life slowly and painfully. Her safety was what ought to be concerning her, not her likelihood of spending the night with her handsome silver fox. That being said, part of her wanted to ask him to stay, once they got to Adair’s house. It had been a long time since she’d slept beside someone. It was comforting, having someone else beside her as she slept. She missed it.

She shook her head, trying not to focus on such things.

Finally, she felt more or less confident that she’d gathered everything she needed for the next few days at least. Surely things would blow over by then. Surely the letter was just a prank. A joke in extremely poor taste. Maybe a drunken impulse on the part of Chet Applegate, meant to intimidate her. She would be fine. She was just being silly and overreacting.

She hefted the backpack over her shoulder, and headed back out from the bedroom, feeling a little silly. Negan waited for her in the living room where she’d left him. It was then that she realized her mistake.

He was standing at the fireplace, staring at her wedding pictures on the mantle.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan and Olivia head to Adair's in the wake of the threats, and have a serious conversation.
> 
> Negan starts making plans, and Adair wants in.

Negan wasn’t one to invade privacy, so when Olivia went to her bedroom to pack, he stayed in the living room. The apartment was fairly neat, with a bit of clutter here and there. A coffee cup on the end table, a couple books on the couch next to a rumpled throw. The place had a gas fireplace, and she had pictures and nicknacks on the mantle. He smiled a bit at a grinning, cat-faced little gargoyle perched on the corner of the mantle. He wasn’t at all surprised at it; it was cute, and weird, and seemed quite in character for Olivia. 

What caught his eye though, were the pictures. And once he realized what he was looking at, he couldn’t help staring.

She looked beautiful. In the strapless white dress, her red hair done up and woven with ribbon, a bouquet of roses in one hand… She looked like a princess. More than that, she looked  _ happy _ . She stood next to a man Negan would have assumed was not in her league. He was tall, on the thin side. His ears stuck out a bit, his grin was toothy in an almost comical manner. But the way she held onto him, the joy on their faces… 

The next picture was the wedding party surrounding the bride and groom. Adair in a gray suit and green tie had an arm wrapped around her waist companionably. Olivia clung to her groom, and he to her. They looked like they were laughing.

His gut twisted. She kept the photos displayed. In a place she’d see them often. But she lived alone. He knew damn well she wasn’t divorced.

He saw her stricken look when she returned to the living room. Her eyes flicked from the pictures to him, and she stiffened. He understood why. 

He understood better than she could know.

“Got everything together, darlin’?” He tried to be casual. Even as he burned to know more. A loss like that ripped a hole in you. One that never went away, not really.

Olivia looked down and nodded. “I think so.”

The unasked question hung over them like a stormcloud. “Alright, make sure all the windows are locked up, and we’ll head out. You’ll want to call Adair so he knows we’re coming. I doubt he’d be happy if we just turned up banging on the door.”

She managed a little chuckle, and did as he told her. Once the lights were out and the doors were locked, she followed him out to the car.

He was quiet as she called her friend, reassuring him several times she was fine. He understood his concern; she sounded shaky at best. He wasn’t actually sure if it was from the threat, or from finding him looking at the pictures.

He understood that as well. Certainly he’d known from the start he wasn’t the first man in her life. Just like she wasn’t even close to the first woman in his. A previous marriage, though, particularly one that ended in tragedy, was a difficult subject to broach. He didn’t blame her for feeling unbalanced.

Negan didn’t say anything as she hung up with Adair. He watched the road, not pressing her. She was silent for a long moment, staring out the window into the darkness.

“It’s been two years and five months,” she said finally. Her voice was soft.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

“I’d have to say something eventually,” she replied. “His name was John. He… I had the flu. He decided to walk to the store because it was nice out. T-to get me soup and medicine. And someone hit him.” She took a slow, shaky breath. “And drove off and left him.”

“God damn,” he said softly. “I’m really sorry, baby. That is shitty as hell. Did they ever catch who did it?” He knew it wouldn’t make it better if they had. But it would be something at least.

She shook her head, staring down at her lap. “No. I guess at this point they won’t. I still call the lead detective for updates. Every two weeks. Just in case.” 

Negan couldn’t imagine how godawful that must feel. At least in his case he had something concrete to be pissed at, even if it was a disease. Olivia had to live with knowing whoever had killed her husband was out there somewhere. Living their life free and clear. 

If it were him, he would be so eaten up with rage he didn’t think he’d ever recover. But here she was, the sweet, playful, even happy woman he’d met at the wedding. She had more iron in her than he’d given her credit for.

He reached over and took her hand in his, and she held it tightly.

“I lost my wife.” He hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t meant to tell her yet, but the words spilled out anyway. It was almost a relief to say it out loud. Since he’d lost Lucille, he’d taken great pains to avoid the subject. He never spoke of her. He avoided things that reminded him of her. 

Hell, he’d quit his old job because the familiar routines lulled him into forgetting. There had been days he found himself driving familiar roads, on autopilot, heading back to his old house, wondering what she’d be making for dinner. The pain of remembering in those moments was like losing her all over again. 

Olivia looked up, her other hand wrapping around his. “I’m sorry.”

“Cancer. Almost four years ago now.” He let her hold his hand as he guided the car down dark streets. “I’m not going to tell you I know how you feel. I fucking hated it when people did that to me. Because we both know no one can know that shit. We all got different baggage.”

She nodded.

“But, I get it.” He glanced over, giving her a small smile. “It’s hard to know how to talk about that shit. Fuck, I just try not to think about it. So I’ll just say I’m sorry it happened, and I’m sorry it had to come out like this.”

“It… wasn’t how I would have prefered to broach the subject,” she said. 

“It’s okay, darlin’. Like I told you, I got a longer past than you do. And right now I’m mostly concerned with making sure you’re safe. We can talk about the rest when you’re ready.”

She squeezed his hand. “We can talk about things when you’re ready, too.”

The front lights were on when they got to Adair’s, and before they’d made it to the porch the door was open. 

Adair ushered them inside, a protective arm around Olivia.

“I have your usual room ready, and put out a bottle of water for you in case you get thirsty. If you need anything you know where it is,” he told her. He glanced at Negan. “I have another guest room made up.”

He thought about staying. A small, dark part of him whispered that after the scare, and after their conversation in the car, she might want comfort. 

“I should get back home,” he replied. “Let’s get you settled first, though, sweetheart.”

Adair nodded. “Liv, go ahead and put your stuff upstairs. I’ll get you a glass of wine.”

Olivia nodded, looking up at Negan briefly before she headed to the staircase. Adair watched her go, then gave him a shrewd look. He followed the young man into the kitchen and waited as he opened a wine bottle.

“You think it was the asshole from the party?” he asked.

“That’s the working theory,” Negan nodded.

Adair retrieved a couple wine glasses. “Forgive me for not offering you some, but if you’re not staying I suppose you’ll be driving.” He poured a generous glass, setting it on the counter, and a smaller portion, leaning back and sipping it. 

“Yeah, I think between that letter and our conversation in the car about the wedding pictures, it might be best if I gave her some time.”

The young man’s eyes widened a little, and he nodded. “Ah. Yes.” He swirled the wine, frowning. “Liv’s been through a lot in the past couple years. With what happened to John and all.” 

“She told me a little. It’s a fucked up situation,” he admitted.

“You have no idea,” Adair replied darkly. He sighed, shoving a hand through his hair. “You’re the first person she’s tried dating in almost a year. The last one was a debacle. You at least seem to have some redeeming qualities.”

Negan raised an eyebrow. “Thanks?”

Adair smirked at him, sipping his wine. “Take it as a compliment. I don’t like many people.”

“Alright,” he replied amiably. The kid was full of sass, but he also had Olivia’s best interests at heart. Negan had to respect that.

“On that note, were someone to be inclined to paying a visit to said wedding asshole… say for the purposes of explaining how bad an idea it is to threaten my best friend… I would like to be involved.”

Negan crossed his arms, thoughtfully. “Such a visit might involve some quasi-legal shit. Not to mention the asshole in question is Chet Applegate of the fucking Applegate dynasty.”

Adair gave him a placid smile. “Do I look like I give even the smallest of fucks?”

He chuckled. “No. No you do not.”

“I’ll give you my number then, and I expect to be included.”

“Considering the police are fucking useless because of the little prick’s family, sure. There may be a visit in Chet’s future.” Hell, who was he to exclude the kid if he wanted in? Besides, it never hurt to have someone wealthy on your side. Particularly if things went pear shaped.

Adair scrawled his number on a scrap of paper and pushed it across the counter. Negan shoved it in his jacket pocket as footsteps sounded behind him.

Olivia picked up the wine glass and sipped appreciatively. Her eyes were a little red and puffy, but he wasn’t about to mention it. She’d been through a lot that night; he wouldn’t begrudge her a few tears.

“I’m sorry to make you be out so late,” she said to him.

“Nah. I’ll sleep in tomorrow. Rick won’t even notice I’m late. It’s not like I do much there.” He winked.

Adair’s blue eyes flicked between them. “Liv, let me know when you’ve locked up. I’ll set the alarm.” He inclined his head to Negan. “Goodnight. I’ll see you another time.” He picked up his wine and withdrew from the kitchen, leaving them alone.

Olivia looked up at him. “Thank you. For everything tonight. And I’m sorry the detective was such an asshole to you.”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “Darlin’ quit apologizing for shit that’s not your fault. You did everything right. You stay home tomorrow, get some rest, and we’ll come up with a game plan. Maybe this is a nasty prank, maybe it isn’t. But I’m sure as shit pissed about it and not about to let it go.”

She swallowed, laying her hands on his chest. “Thank you.”

He gave her a wide, toothy grin. “Nah. I’m just trying to make you like me. Is it working?”

She managed a laugh at that. “Yeah. It’s working.”

“Good. I’ll keep it up.” He caught her chin, tipping her face up, and kissed her deeply. 

Olivia wound her arms around his neck, responding to his kiss eagerly. He could taste the wine on her lips and tongue, and her body pressed against his was warm and soft. He tangled a hand in her red hair, the other sliding around her back.

He hated to break the kiss, but it was late, and he had work to do before he could sleep. He pulled back a little, nipping at her lips. “Drink your wine and get some sleep, baby. I’ll call and check up on you tomorrow.”

She nodded, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He could feel his body responding to her, and he wanted more. From the flush in her cheeks and the look in her eyes, she did too. 

“God, you’re hot,” she breathed.

He growled softly, his hands moving to her hips and holding firmly. “That’s my line, babydoll.” Much more and he would want to stay. He already wanted to stay, if he were honest. But much more time pressed against her and he might not be able to leave. He bent, kissing her firmly one last time. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“You better.”

It took some adjustments to sit comfortably in his car once he made it out of Adair’s house, but soon enough he was on the way back to his apartment. A plan had already started forming on how to deal with Chet Applegate. He would need help, though. Adair wanted in, which was an asset. But one could never have too many of those.

Once he’d gotten home and locked his door, he scrolled through his contacts, selecting one and pressing send.

The phone buzzed until finally a sleepy-sounding voice answered. “Negan? It’s fucking one a.m.”

“Didn’t call for an update on the time, Simon,” he said. “I have a favor to ask.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia deals with the stress of being threatened in an unhealthy way.
> 
> Negan tells Adair the plan for getting some answers. 
> 
> Negan is a gentleman.

Olivia’s sleep was restless, punctuated by unsettling dreams. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised; the stress of knowing someone wanted you dead and had your address wasn’t exactly conducive to rest.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes and found a robe in the closet. She’d never quite finished cleaning everything out when she moved into an apartment again. More than once since she’d gotten her own place Adair had offered to move her back in. That morning she was more tempted than usual. 

The tension hadn’t dissipated by the time she got downstairs, so she decided to cook. The ritual of making food was soothing. It absorbed her whole attention, and pleased her need for order. The more stressed she became, the more elaborate the meals. It had been how Adair first knew things were not going well with her last dating attempt. The moment she pulled a rack of lamb from the oven, Adair had demanded to know what was wrong. Around the time the multi-layered chocolate cheesecake happened, she suspected he was researching hit-men. 

The kitchen was well stocked, and blueberry pancakes sounded good, so she started gathering ingredients. She got coffee brewing, and because she still couldn’t shake her dreams, she brought a bottle of champagne out of the wine chiller. Mimosas sounded nice.

She was three mimosas in when Adair wandered into the kitchen. “Smells good.”

“Blueberry pancakes,” she told him. “Just reducing the syrup now, between that and the pancakes I used up all the blueberries. And I made bacon, because we need protein. And mimosas.” She waved a hand at the open bottle of champagne and the pitcher of orange juice.

Adair gave her a little frown at that. He got concerned for her sometimes, which was understandable. He’d been there for her through the darkest days after John died. 

He mixed his drink without comment, however, and sat at the counter. “Heard from Negan yet?”

She shook her head. “I kind of hope he’s still sleeping. I feel bad for keeping him up so late.”

“You should invite him over for breakfast, considering you have enough batter there to make food for a small army,” he sniffed.

Olivia glared at him, but didn’t deny it. “They’ll freeze and you can heat them up in a toaster oven. Now, take the plate of bacon into the dining room.”

While cooking breakfast had helped her relax a bit, she found her stomach too nervous for her to have much appetite. She ate a bit to appease Adair and absorb some of the champagne, but quickly found herself pushing food around with her fork. Adair watched her, sipping his coffee.

“It’ll be okay. I imagine it was an alcohol-fueled bit of bullshit. And even if it wasn’t, there’s no one who’s getting in here.”

She nodded, trying to make herself believe it. “You’re probably right.” She wasn’t so sure, though. Something about the wording of the threat had been chilling.

Olivia knew better, but it was easy to slip into drinking steadily. It wasn’t as though she were going anywhere, after all. She’d taken the day off work, and wasn’t inclined to leave the safety of Adair’s house. So, there seemed little reason not to open a bottle of wine at lunchtime. 

Adair gave her disapproving looks of course, but it was keeping her from freaking out. She did feel a little better when Negan texted her that afternoon to check up on her. For the most part she busied herself in the kitchen. 

Someone wanted her dead. 

She made chocolates, flavoring them with bourbon. She poured herself a glass to be sure of the quality.

They wanted her to suffer.

She rolled the chocolates one by one in crushed nuts, nestling each in a little paper wrapper. Chocolate and bourbon went so well together.

They knew where she lived.

Someone was at the door. She glanced up and realized it was nearly six in the evening. She sipped a glass of wine she forgot pouring.

Adair led Negan into the kitchen. “And here she is. She’s been hammered since breakfast,” he said loftily. 

“I have not.” Olivia scowled at him.

Negan raised an eyebrow. “That does explain the texts.”

She huffed, pushing hair out of her eyes awkwardly. “Don’t you two talk like I’m not in the room.” 

“Sorry, doll.” Negan grinned and approached her, putting his hands on her shoulders. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. 

“I’m not ‘hammered’ I’m a little tipsy. I had a couple drinks because I was nervous.” She made a valiant effort to enunciate. She had to admit, the room seemed a little wobbly. She tried to take a sip of her wine, but Negan intercepted the glass, taking it from her.

“Sweetheart, you have had plenty,” he told her firmly. 

She giggled, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I’m fine.”

“You are _ damn _ fine, Livvy. But you’re also fucking sloshed.” He sighed, shaking his head as he looked down at her. “Not that I can fucking blame you. Let’s get some food in you and try to get you halfway sober so you’re not sick tomorrow.”

“Want me to cook? I can cook,” she told him earnestly. 

He chuckled. “Fuck no, baby. I don’t trust you near knives or a stove right now.” He glanced back at Adair. “How’s pizza sound?”

“Works for me,” Adair confirmed. 

She let Negan propel her into the living room. She didn’t  _ need _ him to keep her steady of course, but it was nice to have his arm around her. She settled on the couch beside him, cuddling into his side. He wrapped an arm around her, smirking slightly.

“So tell the truth, darlin’. How wasted are you?”

She let her head drop to his shoulder and rolled her eyes up at him. “Maybe a little,” she admitted.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He kept his arm around her, and cupped her cheek with his free hand. “I get it, doll. It’s a stressful thing that’s going on. I’ll give you the one. But after this you need to keep your head on straight. Think you can do that for me?”

She bit her lip, leaning her face into his hand. “Yes.”

“That’s my girl,” he praised. 

Distantly, she realized she was pretty drunk. It was hard to focus on what was going on around her. Adair put on a movie she paid little attention to. Once the pizza arrived, Negan kept reminding her to eat, and forced glasses of water on her. Eventually, she curled up on the couch with her head on his lap and closed her eyes. 

“Thanks. She won’t listen to me when she’s like this.” Adair’s voice. 

“Like I said, I’m pretty sure I can handle her.” She could feel the thrum of Negan’s deep voice as she lay against him. His hand stroked her hair. “I take it you’ve had experience in the matter.”

A long pause then. “A couple years ago… well. Let’s just say it was bad.”

“No doubt,” Negan said quietly.

Part of her wanted to open her eyes. Maybe not to join the conversation, but at least to let them know she heard them. Then again, it seemed like too much trouble to bother.

“Any plans in the works?” Adair asked.

“Yeah. I called a buddy of mine. I figure you, me, and Simon can go have a nice little chat with the Applegate prick. Just got to catch him alone.”

“Give me a little time. I’m sure I can figure out a way to arrange something.” Adair sounded smug.

“Good deal. I wanna know how?” Negan chuckled.

“Nothing terribly illegal. I’ll keep you posted.”

“I’ll look forward to it. I can get free pretty easy. The other security guy owes me one.” Negan shifted a little, brushing her hair back from her face. “Think I should tuck this one in.”

“You’re probably better equipped to carry her if need be,” Adair allowed. “Up the stairs, second door on the right.”

She grumbled as Negan shook her gently. Their voices had been soothing. She just wanted to sleep. Forcing her eyes open, she looked up at him. 

“Come on, babydoll. Let’s get you in bed.”

She couldn’t very well let that one go. Certainly not while she was still feeling a bit drunk. She rolled onto her back and grinned up at him, sliding her hand over his beard. “Ooh, I was hoping you’d say that sometime soon.”

He chuckled, catching her hand and kissing it. “Up we get.”

Olivia let him pull her to her feet. She yawned, winding an arm around his waist for support. Adair raised an eyebrow at her. “Have we learned anything?” he asked.

“Negan doesn’t trust me with knives,” she replied.

Adair rolled his eyes, but Negan laughed. “Only when you’re drunk, baby.”

She waved to Adair as Negan propelled her to the stairs, steadying her as they ascended. She was feeling more sober, but not completely there yet. She likely would have made it up on her own, but she certainly didn’t object to his help. 

Her room was still decorated with art she’d chosen, and a few pictures sat framed on the dresser, along with some of her jewelry and makeup. Negan pulled back the bedclothes, sitting her down and pulling her shoes off. She struggled out of her jeans as well.

She saw him looking as she did it. His dark eyes flicked to her legs, and to the clingy black panties she was wearing. His tongue darted out, moistening his lips, and he forced his gaze back to her face. 

“All right, doll. There’s a bottle of water on your nightstand. You’re going to be a little hungover tomorrow I’d guess. I’ll bring some nice greasy food to make you feel better, huh?” He gave her a wink.

He looked like he was going to leave. Olivia stood up, winding her arms around his neck and pressing against him. “Stay.”

He hesitated, his hands winding around her waist. He looked down at her, sucking in a breath. “That’s not a good idea right now, babydoll.”

“Why?” she whined. She rubbed against him, playing her hands through his hair. “We’re adults.”

He gave a soft little groan and with an effort that was visible, he untangled her arms from him and pressed her down to sit on the bed. “You’re a drunk adult. And I’m an asshole, but I’m not that.”

She knew he was probably right, but at the moment all she could think about was how handsome he looked. Standing over her in the half-light, slim hips and broad shoulders, those dark eyes, the salt and pepper beard. She caught his belt, leaning back playfully. “At least give me a goodnight kiss.”

Negan shook his head, smirking as he leaned down to her. “Little girl, you are asking for trouble.” She felt the bed shift as he braced a hand next to her, his other hand catching her cheek, tipping her face up. He kissed her, his lips sliding over hers, his teeth catching her bottom lip gently. She parted her lips for his questing tongue, eager for his attention.

The kiss was all too brief for her preference. He pulled back, his thumb stroking over her cheek. “Alright, sweetheart. You get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“But--” she began.

Negan shook his head, bending and scooping an arm under her legs, pulling her up on the bed. He pulled up the bedclothes, tucking them around her firmly. “Nope, you get some sleep.”

Olivia sighed, flopping back on the pillow and pouting. “If you insist.”

There was a dangerous glimmer in his eyes, a little smile playing over his lips. “I insist,” he purred. “So you be a good girl for me, hmm?”

She blushed. She wanted to pull him down on top of her. Particularly with the way he was looking at her, and the tone of his voice. Part of her wanted to argue, just to see what he’d do. She didn’t quite have the courage for that yet, though. Instead she nodded obediently. “I’ll be good,” she said meekly. 

His smile widened. “That’s what I like to hear.” He tapped his fingers under her chin gently. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart. Get some rest.”

He stood and walked out, pausing to glance back at her with a wink. She sighed as he pulled the door closed behind him. It wasn’t fair that he was so handsome, and so sexy. She rolled over, curling up on her side and closing her eyes. 

Much more of this and Negan would be the death of her long before her stalker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've slowed way down because I'm in grad school. Fortunately, I seem to be doing halfway decently in my classes so I might be a little less busy checking and rechecking and going overboard on stuff, and might get some writing in.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan, Adair, and Simon take a field trip.

Negan waited until noon to message Olivia. He figured she was probably hung over. God knew he’d been there before and he’d have been pretty pissed at being bothered too early. 

** _How you feeling, kid?_ **

_ Ugh. Not as bad as I probably would have if you hadn’t made me drink all that water. But a little rough. _

** _I was going to knock off early. Like I said, Daryl owes me one._ **

Additionally, Adair had messaged him earlier in the day. Apparently Chet was one of those narcissistic types who thought everyone would want to know every move he made, so he posted it on social media. It worked out well if you were trying to find him.

_ Well, I’ll warn you. I’m not exactly at my best. _

** _That’s okay. You’ve earned an off day or two. I’ll bring you lunch._ **

_ Thanks. :) See you soon. _

He had Simon on standby. They planned to make a move that afternoon. Negan wasn’t sure what Adair had told Liv about it, if anything. She’d probably object to them going out to intimidate the guy. Wouldn’t want them to get themselves in trouble with the law. He knew he was probably old enough to know better than indulging in this sort of shit, but…

Well, that little prick had (most likely) threatened to kill Olivia. He didn’t have the balls to carry out said threat, from what Negan had seen. But it was the principle of the thing. You didn’t go around doing shit like that to a lady. You especially didn’t do shit like that to  _ Negan’s _ lady.

He wasn’t sure when the shift had taken place. The little, primal, possessive urge that flared up when he thought about her. The apex predator mindset of wanting to protect her against danger. To keep anyone else away from what was his. Oh, he’d beat the blue hell out of any man he caught getting nasty with a woman; that just wasn’t done. But when it came to Olivia, suddenly it was personal. That placed Chet Applegate in a very dangerous position.

He got takeout from Gabriel’s, good fried and salty hangover food for Liv, and something lighter for Adair. He went ahead and got a nice thick burger for himself. He was about to work off a lot of calories after all.

As she’d said, Liv wasn’t exactly at her best. She looked a little pale, and a lot tired. She was a little rumpled, wearing yoga pants and a Pink Floyd tee shirt that was too big for her. Negan thought she looked adorable.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He grinned, sliding her lunch over to her and settling in the seat beside her.

“Mm, thanks.” She said and yawned, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I suppose I should be thankful you still want to come over after last night.”

He chuckled. “We’ve all been there. At least you’re a cute drunk.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Adair said as he padded into the dining room. Olivia stuck her tongue out at him. 

Adair kept topics of conversation fairly superficial as they had lunch. It was an odd experience for Negan. Since Lucille passed away, he had casual lunches with coworkers, dinners out, that sort of thing… But Olivia and Adair interacted like family. And it had been a very long time since he’d had a meal with anything like a family. He was quiet, just listening to the two bicker and chat. If he closed his eyes, he’d have sworn they were blood siblings. It was oddly nice, to tell the truth. 

When they’d finished, it was easy to convince Olivia to take a nap. Between a full belly and the hangover, she was feeling lethargic. He walked her to her room of course. Just to be sweet.

She yawned, climbing between the sheets, and he sat on the bed next to her. She bit her lip, looking embarrassed.

“Sorry, you know, about last night.”

Negan grinned, brushing her hair back from her face. “Nah, you didn’t hurt my feelings, darlin’. You made it hard to leave I got to say.”

“That all I made hard?” she asked. Her green eyes fairly danced with teasing.

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re feeling well enough to be asking for it, sweetheart?” He leaned close, putting his hand down on the other side of her, trapping her on the bed. “Because you’re asking for it,” he said, low and dangerous.

Her breath caught. She swallowed, her eyes wide. “P-probably not,” she admitted softly.

He leaned in close, bringing his lips to her ear. “In that case, be a good girl. That’s going to be your fair warning. You start teasing me, baby, you best be prepared for me to respond. Understand?” He pulled back, letting her see his grin, a little too toothy to be exactly safe. 

She started to say something, but stopped and nodded instead. He caught her lips with his.

“Good girl. Now you get some rest. Adair and I are going to run some errands.”

Olivia nodded meekly, her cheeks flushed. She certainly did respond to him when he was being forceful. He filed that bit of information away for later. 

“When are you coming back?” she asked. 

“By dinner. Promise.” He gave her a wink and tipped her chin up. “Get better, sweetness.” He kissed her again. He was really starting to like that.

She kissed back, a little shyly this time. She nodded and settled down in the bed, pulling up the covers. He made himself stand, stroking his fingers over her cheek before he left.

Negan took a moment to compose himself as he closed the door. He was probably moving too fast. He’d been on two official dates with Olivia, and here he was not only thinking of tying her to her bed and fucking her until she begged him to stop, but he was also heading out to do something not even a little illegal for her sake. At this rate they’d be picking out silverware by next week. He ran a hand over his face and shook himself. No sense in overthinking.

Adair was waiting downstairs. The kid wasn’t particularly intimidating looking in and of himself, but he looked like he meant business. That was half the battle. He raised an eyebrow at Negan.

“Chet will be heading to the gym in an hour. It’s got a nice big parking lot, which abuts some woods. He likes to park away from other cars so his doesn’t get scratched,” Adair told him.

“Gym? Thought I broke his arm?” Negan had to admit he was disappointed.

“Dislocated his elbow, actually. Which he attributes to playing football. But he’s apparently not skipping leg day.” Adair shrugged. 

“I want to know how you found that out?” Negan asked.

Adair rolled his eyes. “Legally, if somewhat embarrassingly. Chet will accept friend requests from any facebook account with a female picture and name. I have his facebook, instagram, twitter, pretty much everything. Didn’t even have to hack them.”

“Good deal,” Negan grinned. “Ready to put the fear of god into the little shit?”

“If by god you mean us, then yes. Yes I am.”

They picked up Simon on the way to the gym. It was good to have some backup, after all. And his friend was always willing to throw in with whatever Negan was doing. Even when it might involve something that was… less than nice.

The mustachioed man climbed into the back seat, eying Adair skeptically. “Negan,” he greeted. “Small teenager,” he addressed Adair.

The young man rolled his eyes. “I am  _ not _ a teenager,” he grumbled.

Negan chuckled. “Simon, Adair. Adair, Simon.”

“Lovely to make your acquaintance,” Simon said. He turned to Negan. “Now, you going to let me know what in the actual fuck we’re doing?”

“We have a young man needs to be taught some fucking manners,” Negan replied. 

“Yeah, I figured it was the one you called me about. Giving your lady friend problems, yeah? We stomping a mudhole in his ass or what?”

“If it comes to it, sure. But first we’re going to have a civilized fucking conversation, and explain to him he’s on thin fucking ice,” Negan replied pleasantly. “Ask him fucking nicely to leave her the fuck alone and never contact her again. If he needs to be encouraged, well…”

“We’ll carve out his eyeballs and feed them to him,” said Adair lightly.

Simon’s eyes widened, and he looked at Adair as though seeing him for the first time. “God damn, kid. You play for keeps.”

“Liv is my best friend. I’m not going to put up with anyone who doesn’t treat her with the proper respect.” Adair glanced over at Negan. Apparently he was passing the kid’s standards.

Simon grinned. “I like him.”

They made it to the gym and sat in the parking lot to wait. Soon enough, just as Adair said, a flashy car pulled in, parking far away from all the other cars in the lot. Chet got out, his arm wrapped and his eye blackened, but with perfect hair and gym clothes carefully calculated to show off his physique. He seemed oblivious to his surroundings, too wrapped up in his phone. 

He damn near ran into Negan, who stood in his path, arms crossed. 

Chet started as he noticed someone was in front of him. He looked up, a sneer forming. The expression turned to one of near panic when he saw who was in front of him. 

“Oh, shit,” he said. 

“Oh shit, indeed,” Negan agreed. “Can I have a word with you?”

He wasn’t too surprised the little shit tried to bolt. It was part of why he’d brought backup after all. Chet barely got turned around before Simon had one arm, yanking him to a standstill. Adair stepped forward and smoothly plucked the phone from his hand. Before he could respond, Negan had his other arm.

“Like I said. I really need to talk to you.”

There was enough in the way of trees and bushes that they didn’t have to drag Chet too far before they were lost to the sight of the parking lot. The young man cursed and struggled, but with his injuries he wasn’t nearly up to escaping two men holding on to him. 

They got him to a clearing, and Simon kicked the back of his knees, forcing him to the ground. He stood behind Chet, as Adair leaned back against a tree, playing with the phone. Negan stood over him, arms crossed.

Chet looked up, clearly angry but not fully able to hide his fear. “You’re fucked, old man. I did you a favor not getting the police on your ass before, but now--”

“You aren’t going to do shit,” Negan said. 

The man tried to get up, but Simon shoved him back down.

“You stay put, we have a nice little chat,” Negan said. “I’m being fucking reasonable right now. I suggest you shut the fuck up and listen. You try acting up, yelling and screaming, or anything that annoys me and believe me, I will shut that shit down.”

Chet seemed to be trying to put on a brave front, but he hesitated. He glanced over at Adair, then back at Simon. 

Negan snapped his fingers to bring the punk’s attention back to him. “Now, you, Chet Applegate, have been quite a piece of shit.”

“Look, man. We had that deal in the parking lot. I’m not pressing charges--” he began.

“I’m not fucking talking about that, shithead,” Negan growled. “I’m talking about Olivia.”

Negan expected either guilt or fear. Instead, Chet looked confused. “What? I haven’t seen that bitch since the party.”

Adair glanced up and narrowed his eyes. “That what?”

Negan nodded. “That is a good point.” He took a step closer to Chet, looming over him. “Want to say that again?”

He was sweating now. Good. He’d figured out that they meant business. “I haven’t seen her. Not since the wedding.”

“Didn’t say you had. I do wonder though if maybe you slipped a nasty note under her door. Something to the effect of wanting her dead? Maybe fucking suggesting you’d make that happen?” There was a part of him that wanted to just haul off and kick the little shit in the ribs. He kept himself in check. 

“What? No! I don’t--I wouldn’t! I don’t even know where she lives!” Chet glanced around nervously, clearly looking for an escape route.

Adair frowned ever so slightly. He was still looking through the phone, but didn’t seem to have come up with anything. Simon stood by, calm and ready.

Negan crouched to be at eye-level and grinned. It was not a friendly smile. Negan smiled the way a predator did; he was showing his teeth. “I’d like to believe you, Chet. But after she fucking rejected you at the wedding, and after I kicked your ass, I get the feeling you’re the kind of tiny-pricked little fuck that holds a grudge. And… well. If I find out you weren’t forthcoming with me, I’m going to be fucking pissed.” He nodded toward Adair and Simon. “My friends here are going to be fucking pissed too.”

Chet started blubbering. It wasn’t particularly surprising. He’d already pegged the little bastard as a coward. Without alcohol in his system giving him an ego boost, he was just a spoiled little kid. “I didn’t… I swear to god, I didn’t do it.”

Negan felt the smile melting off his face. Felt his eyes harden and his lips thin as Chet whimpered, swearing to everything from god to his grandmother’s grave he hadn’t threatened Olivia. He felt the anger filling his chest. He wanted to beat the little prick’s head in. Because he believed him.

He grabbed Chet by the back of the neck, hard, yanking him closer. It unbalanced him, putting him on all fours, still groveling. Negan leaned in. “If you ever speak to her again, if you ever look at her, if you ever even fucking  _ think _ about her again, I will fucking bury you in pieces. Am I being fucking clear?”

Chet nodded frantically. “Yes! Yes, sir, I swear!”

“You fucking sit right here and get your shit together,” Negan released his neck and grinned widely, slapping him on the shoulder jovially. “Then you fucking enjoy leg day.” He stood, jerking his head toward the parking lot. 

Adair tossed his phone on the ground in front of him. “Changed your password for you.”

Chet still hadn’t emerged from the woods by the time they pulled out of the parking lot. Negan imagined he was having himself a nice little nervous breakdown.

He was angry. More than that, he was a little scared. They drove in silence for a long moment before he took a breath. “Fuck. I believe him.”

Adair frowned. “I do too. I couldn’t find anything on his phone, not Liv’s address or contact information, nothing on the GPS history.”

“He’s not our guy?” Simon asked.

“He deserved that anyway, but no, I think Negan’s right.” Adair seemed troubled.

Negan understood why. If Chet hadn’t put that letter under Olivia’s door, who had? They were still loose out there somewhere. The thought didn’t sit well with him. She was safe at Adair’s place for the time being, but they couldn’t just keep her locked up forever. 

He paused as his phone rang. Adair arched a judgmental eyebrow at him as Warrant’s Cherry Pie drifted from his pocket. Unapologetically, he pulled the phone out and answered.

“Hey, Livvy. How you doing?”

“Negan? Where are you?” She sounded tense.

“On the way back to Adair’s. Everything okay?” 

“N-not really. I just got some texts from a blocked number.”

Negan’s jaw tightened as his gut twisted. “What did they say?”

“Same as the note. A-and pictures.” She took a breath. “Of us in Adair’s living room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! hopefully chapters will come more often soon!


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